


To the Victor the Spoils

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Rakuzan!Kagami, Seirin!Himuro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 11:50:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2149716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was no such thing as a strong basketball team in Japan -- or so Kagami thought until his first day in Rakuzan High.</p><blockquote>
  <p><br/>Kagami found out exactly what Akashi meant by fulfilling his responsibilities the next day in math class when he was woken up, painfully, by a sharp jab to the back of his neck.</p>
  <p>He sat up, looked behind him, and saw Akashi calmly putting away the pen he’d just used to stab Kagami awake. </p>
  <p>This sequence of events repeated itself in geography, chemistry, history and Japanese literature. By lunchtime there was a very sore and ink-stained spot on Kagami’s neck where Akashi had poked him repeatedly with the end of a ballpoint pen.<br/></p>
</blockquote>
            </blockquote>





	To the Victor the Spoils

**TO THE VICTOR THE SPOILS**

“At Rakuzan we prefer to recruit Japanese-grown athletic talent wherever possible,” said the deputy principal, who wore spectacles and an ugly maroon tie. “We also hold our students to high academic standards of excellence, but given your son’s unusual circumstances we’d be happy to grant him provisional admission as long as we can put in a plan for remediation.”

Kagami slouched back in his seat, resigned, as his dad nodded in satisfaction. “Taiga hasn't been doing well since he moved back to Japan. But he loves basketball. Being in a school with a strong team will do him a world of good.”

There was no such thing as a strong basketball team in Japan, but there was no point correcting Dad. He forced himself to sit still in his chair while Dad and the deputy principal talked about school fees and dorms and getting his old LA middle school transcript sent over. (He wasn't sure why Dad was bothering, it was just as crappy as his Tokyo middle school transcript.) 

After what seemed like forever, they finally finished talking. Dad checked his watch as they left the deputy principal's office. 

“I have a meeting in an hour with a prospective client,” he said. “Can you make it back to the hotel by yourself?”

“I'll be fine,” Kagami said. He was surprised that Dad was taking this much interest in his grades – or in his basketball, for that fact.

Then again, Dad was flying back to California tomorrow, so it wasn't as if Kagami would have to deal with him for long.

“I'll organise for you to move to Kyoto when the school year ends,” said his father. “I think it'd be better for you to stay in the dorms than to rent an apartment.” 

Kagami shrugged. “Sure.” It didn't really matter where he lived in Japan, after all, since it wasn't LA. And he didn't want to go back to LA either. 

LA was decent cheeseburgers and basketball and Alex – and Tatsuya. 

Rakuzan sounded pretty good.

#

They served cheeseburgers his first day in the Rakuzan cafeteria.

School hadn't started yet, and so the only students having lunch here were those who'd just moved into the dorms. The kitchen had catered accordingly; only a fraction of the serving trays lining the hallway's counters contained food. The serving lady barely looked surprised when Kagami asked for six burgers; she stacked them up on his tray without any comment. 

He chose to eat alone at the far end of the dining hall. Three of the burgers had been consumed by the time a group of older boys gathered around at his table. 

“Is it all right if we sit here?” asked one of them politely. 

Still halfway through chewing a mouthful of processed cheese and beef patty, Kagami nodded. 

They took that as their cue to sit down: two across from him, one on the bench next to him. The tallest of the three sat right opposite Kagami. His tray held nine burgers. Kagami immediately wished he'd grabbed more than six earlier. (They didn't exactly taste good, but cheeseburgers were cheeseburgers). 

The boy sitting furthest from Kagami, who had short hair dyed blond and a cheeky grin, said: “Hey, you're a first year right? I saw you when you moved in last night. You play basketball, right? You look like the type.”

It was the first time since coming back to Japan that Kagami had been asked that question. “I play, yeah,” he said.

“What position d'you play?”

“Forward, usually.” 

“Are you any good?” The blond boy crooked his head. “I bet you're pretty good. Hey Nebuya, do you think he's any good?”

Nebuya – who was obviously the tall heavyset boy with the nine burgers – belched loudly, and didn't say a word. 

The boy sitting next to Kagami gave a sigh. He was slender, with pretty eyes and long black hair; he was the one who'd asked for permission to sit down earlier. “Kotarou, where are your manners? We haven't even introduced ourselves properly.” Turning to Kagami, he said. “My name is Mibuchi Reo. These are my teammates Nebuya Eikichi and Hayama Kotarou. We're all second-years in the basketball club.”

Mibuchi was soft-spoken, with a feminine edge to his body language; but something about him gave Kagami the impression that Mibuchi wasn't to be trifled with. 

“I'm Kagami Taiga. Good to meet you.”

“How long have you played basketball?” asked Hayama. 

“About six years,” said Kagami – and then, because he somehow felt compelled to explain further. “I haven't played too much in the last year though.” 

That revelation got the older boys' attention, though not in a good way: Hayama wrinkled his nose up. Nebuya belched, possibly on purpose. 

Mibuchi raised an eyebrow in elegant disdain. “I see. Well, if you're interested, the Rakuzan club will certainly get you back into shape in no time at all. We expect to lose quite a few members this year, so new sign-ups will be welcome.”

“We're losing members, Reo-nee?” Hayama popped his head up in surprise. “Why?”

“You know why.”

“Because they're too puny,” said Nebuya, his mouth full of half-chewed burger bun as he spoke.

“Because there can only be five starting members in games, and there's only one slot left unfilled,” Mibuchi reminded Hayama. “Or rather, there'll only be one slot left unfilled once the new student from the Generation of Miracles arrives.”

“Which one of them are we getting?” asked Hayama. 

It was Nebuya who answered: “Akashi Seijuurou. The captain.” 

Kagami asked: “What's the Generation of Miracles?”

His question was greeted by a full thirty seconds of abject silence. Finally, Nebuya burped, a sound that seemed to shake Hayama Kotarou out of his round-eyed surprise.

Mibuchi stood up, having finished his lunch. "Well, Kagami-kun, welcome to Rakuzan. I wish you the best in your studies -- and your extracurriculars."

Hayama: "But Reo-nee, did you just hear what he said? It's unbelievable." 

"If he has any potential, Kotarou, we'll see him at tryouts next week. Even if things don't look promising at first glance." 

They were talking about him, in front of him, and ignoring him outright. Kagami reminded himself that it wasn't a good idea to punch sempai. (He had lots of memories of Tatsuya advising him not to pick fights with bigger, meaner kids, which came in handy at times like this. Of course, Tatsuya always used to ruin his own advice by starting a fight himself. Nearly all of their street court scuffles had been Tatsuya's fault.) 

Mibuchi gave him a sidelong glance; there was amusement in his long-lashed eyes. That should have made Kagami even more irritated, except there was something about Mibuchi that gave him the impression that picking a fight with him would be a big, bad mistake. 

And actually, all three of the second-years at the table – Hayama, Mibuchi, Nebuya -- gave off that feeling: they were strong. Kagami had never met a strong basketball player in Japan before, but even so, without having to see them play, he _knew_.

He was going to play basketball again. 

Finally, he was going to face a real opponent again. 

Powered by that thought, after lunch he went looking for the basketball courts at Rakuzan and then spent the afternoon there: practicing, shooting, dribbling, dunking, until dusk arrived and Kagami was sweaty and tired and sore and exhilarated. 

He forgot entirely to wonder to himself: who were the Generation of Miracles anyway?

#

He didn’t hear about the Generation of Miracles again until the first day of school, when he showed up early only to find a throng of students already gathered about the basketball sign-up table.

Someone said: “Are you going to stay in the club this year, Kato?”

“Eh, I don’t know. It’s not looking promising. Bad enough when we had those two idiots and the girly-boy. Now we’ve got one of the Teikou players? We’ll be lucky if we get near enough the bench to warm it.” 

“The track team’s been looking to recruit more people--”

“We’ve certainly done enough running over the years--”

There didn't appear to be a proper queue in front of the sign-up table; rather, students were crowded haphazardly around it. Kagami tried to ease his way through the crowd to get in closer. As was usual in Japan, he was one of the tallest students, so he attracted quite a few stares. 

Finally, he was in front of the table. A stack of registration forms lay piled up there. Kagami looked around for something to write with, and then when he couldn't find anything, tried to fish a pen out of his schoolbag. 

A voice out of nowhere said: “ _Excuse_ me.”

Where the _hell_ had that come from.

He turned to the left and then the right and finally, was alarmed to see right in front of him, standing behind the basketball club table, a student who hadn’t been there before. Probably. Surely? 

“So in case no one ever taught you proper manners,” said the guy in front of him, “you don't just elbow your way to the front. Newbies like you are exactly why we can't get a proper queue going for sign-ups.”

Had this person been here before? “I’m sorry,” Kagami said automatically. “Can I please have a pen?”

There was an obvious twitch of irritation on the other student’s face. “Here you go, fill out your form and then get out of the way.” He stuck a thin ballpoint pen into Kagami’s hand, and then – disappeared. 

Well, he couldn’t have disappeared, but he certainly seemed to, as suddenly as he’d appeared in front of Kagami. 

What was _with_ all the basketball players at Rakuzan?

#

Unfortunately he soon found he had bigger problems at Rakuzan than weird basketball sempai.

Like Japanese literature. And mathematics. And Japanese grammar. And history. And _English_.

“Kagami-kun, can you please tell us what an intransitive verb is?” asked Ono-sensei. She’d begun the class by informing everyone that Kagami had lived in America and that of course she expected her lessons to be far too easy for him. 

“I don’t know,” Kagami muttered. Ono-sensei looked disappointed. Kagami had a feeling that she was going to look disappointed with him a lot of times this year. 

“What about Akashi-kun?” she asked. 

Kagami turned to look at the quiet, long-fringed boy whose desk was right behind Kagami’s. He’d introduced himself earlier today: _Akashi Seijuurou_. It was the name Nebuya had mentioned last week. One of the Generation of Miracles. 

He still didn’t know who the Generation of Miracles were, but the moment he’d walked into the classroom he’d noticed it: Akashi was strong. 

Akashi didn’t look as powerful as Nebuya, nor was he as tall as Mibuchi or even Hayama; he’d barely spoken two words to anyone in the class so far, save for his self-introduction. But Kagami could smell a challenge when he met one. 

He couldn’t wait for his first basketball club practice. 

Akashi said: “An intransitive verb is a verb that doesn’t take a direct object.”

“Well done, Akashi-kun,” said Ono-sensei. “By the way, you should all know that Akashi-kun scored the highest mark on the entrance exams this year. He’ll be giving the incoming student speech at next week’s school assembly.” 

Everyone looked suitably impressed. Akashi remained expressionless. 

Kagami sank back into his chair and waited dully for lunchtime. When the bell rang, after what seemed like hours, the class dispersed, most of them heading to the cafeteria. Kagami ended up standing in line in front of Akashi while waiting to get food.

He said: “I’m Kagami Taiga.”

Akashi glanced up at Kagami – while, for some reason, also managing to give off the impression of looking down his nose. “Yes, I know.”

“I want to challenge you to a basketball one-on-one.”

“I’m not interested.” 

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll lose, and you wouldn’t even be an interesting opponent.”

Okay, _now_ Kagami was starting to get irritated with this guy as well. Clearly, his new basketball teammates were a bunch of assholes. Kagami could deal with that. Just as long as they were strong. 

“You can’t prove that you’re stronger than me just with words,” he said, staring Akashi down. 

Akashi gave off a little sigh. “I _really_ don’t have the time for this today. Can we at least wait until our first basketball club meeting? After that, if you still haven’t satisfied yourself as to the immeasurable gap in ability between the two of us, then I will agree to a challenge.” 

“A rain check? I’ll take that,” said Kagami, and then it was his turn to order. He grabbed three bowls heaped high with spaghetti, plus four bread rolls. 

Somehow, he and Akashi ended up eating lunch at the same table. They sat and ate and for the entirety of the break, didn’t say a word.

#

It took ten minutes of his first afternoon at practice for Kagami to realise he'd never been in a proper basketball club. Not even in LA -- his old junior high basketball team had never been like this. Not like Rakuzan.

The club had at least sixty or seventy members. Some of them were already warming up when Kagami arrived in the gymnasium – there was a three-on-three going on at one end of the court, and another group doing layups at the other end. A few players were doing stretches at the sidelines. 

Kagami spotted Mibuchi, Nebuya, and Hayama gathered together, talking quietly among themselves. There was no sign of Akashi Seijuurou, who’d disappeared after class. 

Shirogane Eiji was the name of their coach. He was a tall quiet man, dressed formally; his voice was calm but direct as he explained how their first few practices would go. Today they would run drills – general fitness first, then shooting, passing, ball handling – during which Shirogane would be assessing each player’s skill. 

Tomorrow morning the club members would play minigames among themselves – again with Shirogane watching – and tomorrow afternoon, the club regulars for the first three months of the year would be announced. 

Now, said Shirogane, we’ll start with shuttle runs.

Five of the first-year rookies had dropped out by the end of that first afternoon. Kagami, for his part, was so focused on practice that he didn’t spot Akashi Seijuurou, until the smaller boy showed up in the changing room at the end of the day, black towel around his neck and eyes half-hidden by fringe, ignoring everyone else and looking like he’d barely broken a sweat at all.

#

“Hey, Kagami!”

Kagami looked around to see Hayama Kotarou jogging across the gymnasium towards him. It was the second day of basketball practice; Kagami had shown up half an hour early in order to prepare for the minigames. 

(Well, that and he hadn’t caught a wink of sleep last night. There was no point in lying awake in bed any longer than he had to.)

Hayama came to a stop in front of Kagami. “Coach’s announced the line-ups! You’ll be playing against me and Reo-nee this morning,” he said brightly. “You and Akashi.”

Startled, Kagami cast his gaze around the gym and then saw Akashi standing near the far hoop, talking to Shirogane-sensei. 

“Just what I’ve been waiting for,” said Kagami to Hayama, who grinned crazily back. 

“Should be fun, right? Try not to hold Akashi back too much, okay? I’ve been wanting to play against the Generation of Miracles for ages."

Okay, that was it, for this amount of assholery from all sides, Akashi Seijuurou had better be the best damn player Kagami had ever played with in his life.

#

He was.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds into their minigame (first to fifteen points) for Kagami to realise that _they had a problem_. Or rather, two problems: Mibuchi Reo and Hayama Kotarou. Each of them was at least as good as Tatsuya, and while Kagami could have managed either one on his own -- probably -- there were two of them, coordinating well together, and Kagami hated to admit it but he was _out of practice_ , and—

Well then there was Akashi Seijuurou, playing point guard for their team of first-years, and not doing much of anything at all. Oh, he was passing the ball, but surely – well, they were losing, weren’t they? 

After Mibuchi scored his third three-pointer, Akashi called a time-out.

The rest of the first-years huddled by the side of the court in relief, most of them looking to Akashi for direction. Apparently they’d all heard of the Generation of Miracles before. 

Akashi opened his mouth to speak, and instead of the tactical plan Kagami had been expecting, he said: “Kagami Taiga, I’d anticipated a disgraceful performance from you, but this is even more embarrassing than I’d expected.”

W-w-what? 

“I don’t see you scoring points,” Kagami snapped back. In fact no one else had scored points except for Kagami in the match so far. 

“Two turnovers,” Akashi said calmly, and Kagami went red, because that was true, even if both times he’d lost the ball to Hayama, who was just a much better ball handler than Kagami was.

Akashi waited a little and then said, “I see you have no answer to that.” 

“It’s true,” Kagami ground the words out reluctantly. “But we’re still going to lose if everyone just keeps messing around.” He meant Akashi, of course; although the other first years who were watching their conversation looked a bit uncomfortable. Not all of them were bad players, but they were too weak to make much of a difference against people like Hayama and Mibuchi. 

“I never lose,” answered Akashi, and stepped back out onto the court. “Time out’s over.” 

Three minutes later, they won.

#

There were still murmurs of discontent when Akashi was named club captain that afternoon, but probably fewer than there should have been, all things considered.

For his part, Kagami wasn’t too surprised at the line-up of regulars. An afternoon and a morning was enough time to size up the club members mostly, and it was pretty obvious who was strong and who wasn’t. 

He was surprised, though, when his name wasn’t called at all. 

He was planning to approach the coach and demand what was going on, but Shirogane beat him to the punch by summoning him at the end of practice.

Shirogane said: “Kagami-kun, I’m aware that your academic difficulties will likely mean that according to school policy, you will remain ineligible to play in official matches for quite some time. Accordingly, I cannot in good conscience offer you a regular’s jersey, even if your overall ability suggests that you are deserving of one.”

School grades. Right. 

Oh.

Soft footsteps sounded and Kagami looked up to see Akashi standing next to Shirogane-sensei. Akashi appeared distinctly pissed off – it was hard to tell since Akashi always seemed either bored or pissed off whenever Kagami saw him, but he certainly looked _more_ pissed off than usual. 

“I’ve asked Akashi-kun to help you out with academic tutoring,” said Shirogane. “Since the both of you are in the same class, he’s ideally positioned to assist you.”

They walked over to the changing room together. Akashi said: “For the record, I don’t believe you’re worthy of being part of the Rakuzan team. It has nothing to do with your grades.” 

“You don’t have to tutor me if you don’t want to.” Kagami scowled.

“On the contrary.” Akashi looked down his nose at Kagami (it still made no sense to Kagami how Akashi managed to tilt his chin in order to achieve this). “I intend to carry out my responsibilities even if in my opinion this particular task is futile.”

#

Kagami found out exactly what Akashi meant by _fulfilling his responsibilities_ the next day in math class when he was woken up, painfully, by a sharp jab to the back of his neck.

He sat up, looked behind him, and saw Akashi calmly putting away the pen he’d just used to stab Kagami awake. 

This sequence of events repeated itself in geography, chemistry, history and Japanese literature. By lunchtime there was a very sore and ink-stained spot on Kagami’s neck where Akashi had poked him repeatedly with the end of a ballpoint pen. 

“What the hell are you doing,” he hissed at Akashi as they walked to the cafeteria. 

“The first step to improving your academic performance is being awake enough in class to take in information,” answered Akashi, unperturbed. 

They had lunch at the same table, which Kagami soon realised was because Akashi was using the time to grill him with questions about everything they’d learned in class. Kagami barely had time to gulp down curry rice between answers. 

Finally, even Akashi got tired of the process and took a break in order to focus on his meal. He ate neatly, with exquisite table manners; despite his athletic build, he wasn’t someone whom Kagami would have picked as a basketball player just by looking at him. 

He’d never played against anyone as strong as Akashi before, not even back in LA.

He wanted to play against Akashi. 

Kagami asked, “Who are the Generation of Miracles?”

Akashi placed down his chopsticks. “My former teammates at Teikou Middle School.”

“Will we get to play against them?”

“ _You_ won’t.”

“I’ll get my grades up.” 

Akashi threw Kagami a look of disdain. Akashi was even better than Mibuchi at looks of elegant disdain. “Have you learned nothing from the last two days? Your basketball is no match for my former teammates.”

“So I’ll get stronger.”

“Cheap boasts from someone who clearly hasn’t practiced in months.”

Kagami took a deep breath and said, “Look, what do you have against me anyway?”

“Do you want the full list of reasons, or just the abbreviated version?” 

They scowled at each other. Kagami could feel a headache coming on. 

He wanted to play basketball with Akashi Seijuurou, not spend _actual time_ with him. 

Unfortunately, it didn't look as if either of them were going to have a choice about that.

#

After this Akashi decided that lunch was the ideal time for tutoring, given that they had club practice twice a day and he was not, he emphasised, going to waste precious hours after school compensating for Kagami's academic ineptitude. Kagami's lunch breaks disappeared into a haze of verb conjugations and dates and quadratic formulae.

A week into the start of term, Hayama and Nebuya and Mibuchi started eating lunch with the two of them, upon which Akashi promptly got them in on the tutoring job. 

The one big advantage of this new setup was that once there were _other_ people around to insult Kagami's lack of intelligence every five minutes, Akashi seemed to focus better on actual teaching. Combined with the fact that he was now wide awake through all of his classes (with an actual, yellowing bruise on the back of his neck), Kagami's grasp on his high school lessons improved slowly but steadily.

The next ranking tests weren't for another three months – but just maybe, Kagami could convince Shirogane-sensei to make an exception. 

Kagami got a break from lunchtime lessons once a week, when Akashi had to get student council work done. (Akashi was already on student council despite being in first-year, a peculiarity that made as much sense as the rest of Akashi Seijuurou did, which was to say none at all.) 

The first time this happened Kagami grabbed a huge subway sandwich from the cafeteria lady and then immediately made for the rooftop of the science building, which he'd heard was a good place to take a nap. He was sleeping longer hours at night in order to make up for the impossibility of snoozing in class, but even so he always found himself yawning in the afternoons, and the basketball club's regular practices meant that the days were long. The chance to doze off, even for twenty minutes, was appealing. 

He emerged from the stairwell out into the sun-drenched, windy rooftop and started walking around the quiet space, looking for a likely spot to lay himself down. 

And tripped, and nearly fell over.

“ _Ouch_ ,” said an aggrieved voice. “Can't you watch where you're going?.”

Startled, Kagami caught his balance and turned back to look at a boy whom Kagami would have sworn had _definitely not been there just now_.

“Sorry,” Kagami said. The other student, sitting on a concrete block with his back to the painted metallic railings, seemed familiar. “By the way, do I know you?” 

The other boy twitched in visible annoyance.

“His name is Mayuzumi Chihiro,” came a familiar voice from behind Kagami. “Up till just a few days ago, he was in the basketball club with us.”

Kagami experienced a sinking feeling.

Why was Akashi here anyway, and why couldn't Kagami ever get away from him? 

Akashi stepped around Kagami and came to a stop in front of where Mayuzumi was sitting. His tie and his blazer fluttered out in the breeze. He appeared to be trying his best to ignore Kagami, which was about as good as Kagami's interactions with Akashi ever got anyway. 

“Hello,” Akashi said to Mayuzumi.

Mayuzumi was holding a brightly-colored novel in one hand. He said, without looking at Akashi, “I'm surprised you remember me. Most people wouldn't.”

“Let's just say you remind me of an acquaintance of mine,” said Akashi, still staring down at Mayuzumi. The wind tugged at Akashi's long fringe, half-covering his eyes. “What are you reading, by the way?”

They all looked down at the cover of Mayuzumi's paperback, which featured a small anime girl holding a spatula. “It's an L.N,” said Mayuzumi.

“An L.N?”

“A light novel. Haven't you ever read one?” Mayuzumi handed the book to Akashi. 

“Are they interesting?” Akashi studied the paperback with an expression that was as close to perplexed as Kagami had ever seen. 

Mayuzumi shrugged. “They're easy reading, and usually fun. I enjoy them.”

“...I see.”

Mayuzumi twitched again. “Are you amused because of what's on the cover?”

Akashi shook his head. “Not at all. Just that you really do remind me of that old acquaintance of mine.”

“You keep saying that,” said Mayuzumi, but his interest had clearly been piqued.

“At our club, he was known as the phantom sixth man.”

From Mayuzumi's round-eyed expression, that phrase meant something to him. “At Teikou?”

“The real reason I'm here is that I want you to be the new phantom sixth man.” Ignoring the palpable shock in Mayuzumi's face, Akashi went on: “You have the same sort of presence and qualities that he had. If I were to oversee your training, you'd develop the same abilities as him. I'll teach you the techniques that you need, and then we'll tear up your club resignation form and bring you into the first string. How does that sound?”

“I refuse,” Mayuzumi said flatly. “Teikou's sixth man was a pass specialist, no? That's not how I want to play.” 

It was Akashi's turn to look surprised. “Why?”

Mayuzumi shrugged. “Look, I don't know what you think of me, but I'm actually cool with the kind of person and player that I am. If all I get to do is pass the ball, then I'd rather not be on the team at all.” 

Akashi stared at Mayuzumi for a long moment.

Then, he smiled. “Interesting. I can certainly work with that. After all, I never intended in the first place for you to have the exact same set of skills as Tetsuya's. My aim is for you to surpass him.” 

_Tetsuya_. Something about the way Akashi spoke that name seemed different – not exactly gentle or fond, but familiar. Kagami had never heard that kind of tone in Akashi's voice before. 

Mayuzumi fell silent after that. Akashi said, “Let me know when you have your answer,” and with that, turned to leave. Kagami followed after him.

“Who's Tetsuya?” he asked, as they went down the stairs together. 

“A former teammate of mine who is none of your business,” said Akashi coldly. 

“If he was at Teikou, then does that mean he was one of the Generation of Miracles?”

Akashi paused at the bottom of the stairwell, and Kagami came to a stop as well, two steps above him. 

“One of us, but not one of us.” Akashi stared up at Kagami as if he were considering something, almost like he were looking through Kagami instead of at him. Then he seemed to dismiss whatever it was he was thinking about. “I'll see you in class.”

He swept down the corridor, leaving Kagami holding an uneaten subway sandwich and with _definitely_ no time to take a nap.

#

Kagami received the email from Alex the night before district preliminaries started. _Long time no see! Miss your sukiyaki. By the way, do you know that Tatsuya's moved to Tokyo?_

So Kagami ended up not sleeping at all the night before Rakuzan's first official match of the year – despite Akashi previously assuring him that he was “obviously not on the starters, Taiga, and neither are you on the reserves, and you will certainly not be playing tomorrow, short of food poisoning occasioning to put half the club out of commission, so please do endeavour not to disrupt your sleep cycle excessively, for my sake during class tomorrow – I have ruined two perfectly good ballpoint pens keeping you awake already.”

He sat in the darkness of his dorm room for most of the night, wondering if he should ask Alex for Tatsuya's contact details, wondering if he should try Tatsuya's Skype or his old email address.

He didn't dare. 

Shortly before dawn he dozed off and then his alarm went off and he dragged himself to basketball practice.

Akashi looked genuinely surprised when he saw Kagami's face – probably estimating the size of the dark circles under his eyes. “Really Taiga, I'd expected better of you than this.” 

Kagami shrugged and said nothing.

Akashi's gaze sharpened; for a moment, Kagami had the horrible feeling that Akashi _did_ actually have telepathic powers and knew everything – knew about Tatsuya, knew about Los Angeles and Kagami's dad and all the rest of it. But in the end Akashi merely arched a brow and said: “Don't expect to be let off the hook in class this morning.”

True to Akashi's word, Kagami had two fresh bruises on the back of his neck by the end of the school day.

The preliminary match was pretty boring, just like Akashi had warned. Hayama complained the moment they got to the stadium changing rooms. “They're weak! Akashi, you didn't warn me they were going to be so weak.”

“It's prelims, you idiot. Of course they're weak,” grumbled Nebuya. “At least we're not playing.”

“Are none of you playing today?” asked Kagami. Weak or strong, he'd have liked to play in an official game for once. 

“Neither are you, Mr. I-can't-pass-English-even-though-I-lived-in-America, so don't get your hopes up,” Hayama threw back at Kagami. 

As usual, it was Mibuchi who offered a serious answer: “Against opponents like these, even one Uncrowned General would crush their spirits. Better to rotate the roster and give our reserve players a chance to get some experience.”

“That's been one thing I've been meaning to ask.” Kagami sat down on a bench next to where Mibuchi was putting his clothes away in the locker. “Why are you guys called the Uncrowned Generals anyway?”

The three of them exchanged glances. A few feet away, Akashi appeared to be absorbed in checking his mobile phone, but Kagami felt the _shift_ of his attention.

Hayama said, in unusually controlled words: “Because none of us even got close to winning against his team.”

He clearly meant Akashi. Akashi Seijuurou and Teikou Middle School. The Generation of Miracles. How could one team alone gain so much notoriety? 

But then again, Kagami had seen Akashi play before. 

They went out into the stadium. Akashi and the Uncrowned sat on the bench, as members of the usual starting line-up; Kagami ended up in the stands with the rest of the reserve players and the non-regulars. Over twenty students had quit the club since the beginning of the year, but there were still fifty-odd members remaining. There were even a few girls there – members of the basketball fan club, which had apparently only started up this year when Akashi joined. 

The game was short, swift and brutal – exactly like Akashi's playing, in that sense, even though Akashi hadn't played at all and was barely giving instructions to the players on court. 

It was the first of half a dozen similar matches for Rakuzan. They were not enjoyable to watch and probably wouldn't have been fun to play at all. 

Still, though, Kagami felt left out.

#

“So I did some research on the Generation of Miracles,” said Kagami one lunchtime at the end of spring. Finally, he was passing all his classes, and Akashi had grown a little bit less relentless during their tutoring sessions – though only a little bit.

Akashi raised his brows. “You're capable of doing research? I shall add that to my list of discoveries for the day.”

“They're all in different high schools now. Kise Ryouta is in Kanagawa. Murasakibara Atsushi is in Akita. The rest of them are in Tokyo. Except for Midorima's school, Shuutoku, they're all expected to make it to the Interhigh.”

“I assume you discovered all that through reading _Basketball Monthly_. It's surprising that your kanji recognition was up to the task.” 

By now Akashi's barbed insults had been thrown out so frequently that Kagami barely even noticed them. “I saw some footage of their games. They're... good.” 

“An eloquent summary of their abilities.” Akashi watched Kagami shovel curry rice into his mouth. “Don't tell me you're harbouring aspirations of facing my teammates at the Interhigh? You're not good enough. Can you even match the Uncrowned at present?”

“How do I get good enough?”

“You're asking _me_ to advise you you on basketball?”

Kagami shrugged. “Aren't you my captain?”

“Even if I am, I don't see that I have any investment in your ridiculous basketball ambitions of glory.”

“I want to defeat you.”

“But you won't.” There was an undercurrent of guarded, flickering anger that was _there_ suddenly, in Akashi's face. “I don't need you in order to achieve victory for Rakuzan, Kagami Taiga.”

“But you need Mayuzumi-sempai? You're working pretty hard at training him.”

“I don't need him either. Don't mistake my patience for weakness.” Akashi stood up, leaving most of the food on his tray uneaten. 

“Nobody thinks you're weak, not even a little bit,” said Kagami, surprised. He reached out to nab an untouched bread roll and an unopened carton of milk off Akashi's tray. Of all the things he'd expected Akashi to be touchy about, _weakness_ hadn't been one of them.

Akashi said: “If you're so keen to grow stronger, why are you asking me for help? Defeat the Uncrowned yourself first, one-by-one. If you can't even manage that, don't even think about the Generation of Miracles, let alone myself.”

#

And that was the end of it from Akashi's side of things, or so Kagami thought at first. It wasn't until the July ranking tests took place, a few weeks before the Interhigh, that Kagami discovered that the draw had him facing Nebuya, Hayama and Mibuchi in minigames. In that order.

He tried to catch Akashi's eye, but the Rakuzan captain was wandering from player to player with a clipboard and had that determined set about his gaze that he always had when he was _especially_ trying to avoid eye contact. Plus the club members were already organising into groups for the minigames; there was no real time to question Akashi about his motivations.

Nebuya shook hands with Kagami with a grin. “So we're finally facing off, huh? Your jumping isn't bad, but your muscles still aren't any match for mine.” 

It was a close game. Nebuya wasn't nearly as good a ball-handler as Mibuchi or Hayama (nor Akashi, but that went without saying), but he wasn't easy to get past inside the paint, and challenging him for rebounds was always tough. In the end Kagami's team won, though, fifteen points to eleven. 

Nebuya clapped him on the back. “You've grown quite bit, kid. Bet you still couldn't keep up with me in a gyuudon eating contest though.”

Personally Kagami thought he could out-eat Nebuya any day, except that Akashi would make them regret it for weeks if they held an eating contest. But he stayed silent, grateful that at least _one_ of the Uncrowned wasn't about to develop a grudge against him for winning against them.

He didn't expect Hayama and Mibuchi to be nearly as easygoing – and indeed, they weren't. 

Hayama was actually a slightly easier match for Kagami than Nebuya was, despite being faster and better at outside shots. At the beginning of the school year, Kagami would have struggled. But he wasn't out of practice anymore, and he'd been aiming at stronger targets than Hayama-sempai all along.

Hayama's face was sullen when the final score was called, 15-9.

“No way that just happened,” he said. “You're ten years too early to beat me, Kagami. If it were a proper one-on-one, I'd--”

“You lost, Kotarou.” Akashi was calm, but his voice cut across the gymnasium as surely as a ship's prow parting water. “Instead of wasting time with useless justifications, maybe you should reflect upon why you were defeated.”

Hayama hadn't tried any backchat with Akashi in months, not since the first week Akashi was made captain, but the small forward certainly looked tempted to start a fight there and then. 

Kagami could almost see the mental image forming among the club members' collective imagination: the powder-fine ashes of Hayama's incinerated remains drifting away into the summer air. 

Kagami was tempted to intersperse himself between Hayama and Akashi. He didn't dislike Hayama-sempai _that_ much. 

In the end, the confrontation was avoided by Mibuchi Reo stepping forward, cool and collected as ever. “Kotarou, if you don't mind, it's time for my game now.” 

Hayama seemed to catch himself, and then, looking annoyed, stalked off to the changing room. Relief filled the atmosphere. 

Mibuchi held out his hand. “It looks like it's our turn, Kagami-chan.”

Still on his guard, Kagami shook hands with the basketball vice-captain.

As expected, the game against Mibuchi was the toughest of the lot. A shooting guard like Tatsuya, and similarly elegant, Mibuchi embodied Tatsuya's cool-head hot-heart motto better than any other player Kagami had ever encountered.

(Akashi seemed cool-headed ninety-five percent of the time, but the remaining five percent – well.) 

Defending against Mibuchi was a constant test of Kagami's reflexes and jumping skill. Predicting the style of three-pointers was entirely out of the question. Kagami could only block as many of them as he could, and keep blocking for as long as he could. 

His focus narrowed and deepened – and somehow, it was enough. 15-12.

“I'll forgive you, but only because I have a soft spot for handsome men,” said Mibuchi at the end of it, utterly calmly, while Kagami ended up both speechless and blushing. “Don’t start getting big-headed though. You’re nowhere near good enough for Sei-chan.”

Shirogane-sensei announced the regulars at the end of the day; Kagami received the No 10 jersey, and a place on the starters. 

He was surprised at the number of players who came up to congratulate him. 

“You deserved to be on the regulars in April,” said one third-year. “It’s good to see someone else who can hold their own with Mibuchi and co, even if it means one less spot on the starters for the rest of us.” 

But one person Kagami really wanted feedback from didn’t speak to him until the next day at lunchtime, when Akashi slid a printed sheet of paper across the table towards him.

“Your timetable for the next three weeks,” he said, clearly expecting Kagami to read it without further preamble.

Kagami took one glance at it and gave Akashi an incredulous stare. “There’s no way I can do this,” he said. He scanned the page again: gym workouts before morning basketball practice, gym workouts after afternoon basketball practice, homework slots after dinner, concentrated drills on weekends… had Akashi seriously limited the number of hours Kagami was allowed to sleep a night to seven and a half? 

“You need to improve your vertical jump before the Interhigh, your left-handed ball handling is non-existent, and even the slightest bit of complacency will see your academic standing once again under threat. Given those competing demands, I think this is the most realistic and efficient partitioning of your time possible.” 

Akashi threw out the words. It was a challenge. The possibility of turning it down didn’t even occur to Kagami. He took the timetable and later glued it to the front of one of his notebooks. 

For the next three weeks, he had no time to think at all.

#

The net effect of spending more time on the gym equipment was that he saw even more of Akashi. (Since obviously spending time with Akashi in class, at lunch breaks, and basketball practice everyday wasn't enough already.)

It'd always been clear that Akashi was terrifyingly fit, but nothing drove it home quite like watching the smaller boy work through twenty pull-ups without even breathing hard. 

Akashi was tougher on himself than he was on his team – and he was incredibly tough on his team. Still, Kagami didn't know a single player in the basketball club who didn't look up to Akashi. 

After the third day of leg curls, squats and lunges, it dawned on Kagami that Akashi was doing a very similar workout to the one he'd prescribed Kagami. 

“Are you trying to improve your jumping as well?” he demanded.

“None of your business, Kagami Taiga.” Akashi continued to work on the leg abductor machine, his gaze distant and almost a little dreamy – except Akashi was probably daydreaming of perfect exam scores or endless victory or crushing opponents beneath his heel or some such.

“I didn't think aerial combat was a specialty of yours,” Kagami said, as he clambered out of the leg curl machine he'd been lying stomach-down on – only to realise from the shift in Akashi's expression that he'd said too much. In the next second he had landed roughly on his tailbone on the floor. He wasn't even sure how Akashi had thrown him off balance – a flicker of the hand, a sudden change of the shorter boy's centre of gravity making him dizzy. “Damn it, don't do that!”

Akashi had paused his workout. “You know, Taiga, I'm starting to think it's not a matter of whether I kill you one day, but rather _when_.”

“At least wait until after I defeat you,” said Kagami.

“If only you could.” Akashi's tone was not as derisive as expected, and Kagami looked up in surprise. But Akashi had leaned over to adjust the weights on his machine, and the long strands of his fringe, slightly damp, effectively hid his expression. 

Unable to think of anything to say, Kagami got up and went over to the free weights area to practice his lunges.

#

Summer vacation arrived, shortly before the beginning of the Interhigh, and the most punishing training camp Kagami had ever attended ensued. On balance the program was a bit easier than adhering to the school term timetable drawn up by Akashi Seijuurou. (If nothing else, at least he got to sleep eight hours a night during the camp.).

Of course it was clearly too much to hope for that Akashi would actually _stick_ to Shirogane's timetable. Kagami found himself poked awake with the pointy end of a comb at the crack of dawn on the first day of camp. (By now he had basically been conditioned to come awake all at once in response to the application of sharp – or semi-blunt – objects to his neck.)

“Let's go measure your vertical jump,” Akashi said. He was already fully-dressed for practice, in cotton shorts and a thin T-shirt. A sports towel hung around his neck.

They made their way across the training facility they'd hired for the camp and into the main gymnasium. Affixed to one of the walls was a vertical jump measuring pole with coloured vanes hanging in a row from its horizontal portion. 

“Warm up first,” ordered Akashi, “and we'll test your jumping.”

They ran a few laps around the gym together, then did some basic stretches. Then Kagami took his place in front of the measuring device, bent his knees and leaped. 

He cleared all the colored vanes and ended up hitting the silver metallic bar at the high point of the pole. 

Elated, he turned around to look at Akashi, and his sense of euphoria strengthened as he saw the utter shock in the other boy's face.

Akashi’s recovery was quick of course; the surprise cleared from his features in an instant. “I see you’ve been adhering to your prescribed training.”

Since Akashi had been right there in the gym with Kagami every single morning and afternoon of this training, this seemed like a pretty unnecessary statement on Akashi’s part. Kagami shrugged. “Should we readjust the level of the pole so that it can measure higher jumps?”

That earned him a baleful, feline glare. “No, I think I have a perfectly adequate idea of your ability.”

“Sure.”

Another glare from Akashi. It was clearly _far_ too early in the morning, since the expression mostly made Kagami think of a snarling ginger kitten. 

“I’ve asked Shirogane-sensei to place you with Kotarou and Eikichi for the next few days. You need to practice more on getting past Eikichi’s blocks, and I’ve instructed Kotarou to work with you on your left hand dexterity.”

“What will you be doing?” asked Kagami.

“Worry about yourself, Taiga. You don’t have the luxury to be worrying about anyone else.” There was a basketball lying at the sidelines near Akashi’s feet; Akashi reached down, picked it up, and suddenly moved forward, dribbling swiftly. He was across the three-point line, into the key, and then he leaped, his movements impossibly neat, his arm reaching forward – and then he dunked, and the ball slammed through the hoop, fell to the court below. 

Akashi landed on his feet like a cat and turned to watch Kagami. Who wasn’t nearly as good at covering up the surprise in his face as the smaller boy was. 

“Where did you find the time to practice _that_?” Kagami demanded. 

“Not all of us are pathetically inefficient with our time, Taiga,” said Akashi, sweeping past him. “Hurry up and get ready or you’ll miss breakfast.”

#

A week later, Kagami discovered the advantages of getting inadequate sleep for a month: he slept like a log the night before his first official Interhigh match.

#

Their first Interhigh opponent was clearly in a different league from the schools they'd played at the district and prefectural levels. Shirogane adjusted the line-up accordingly; Kagami was put into the game from the start, together with Mibuchi.

It was his first official basketball game since he'd come to Japan.

From the moment of tip-off, he felt _alive_ , as if he'd been asleep his entire two years in this country and was only now waking up for the first time. 

Rakuzan won easily, 110-45. Afterwards, they broke up into smaller groups to buy refreshments as well as to wander around and explore. To no one's surprise, Kagami found himself together with Akashi and the three Uncrowned. 

Luckily after getting to mock Kagami's dribbling at training camp all week, Hayama seemed to have reconciled himself to losing to a kouhai. He was his usual chatty self as they walked around the sports centre – pointing out players he'd faced at last year's Winter Cup or Interhigh, or even during middle school. (Hayama's categories for players and teams were 'very weak,' 'weak' and 'almost strong')

“What about the teams with the Generation of Miracles, how strong are they?” Kagami asked. 

Mibuchi made a moue with his lips and looked like he was about to answer, but Akashi spoke first. “My former companions' teams are strong.”

Just like that. Nothing more. Kagami had tried several times to get Akashi to reveal more about his Teikou teammates, but Akashi always responded by telling Kagami he wasn't strong enough yet. 

Which was true, but how was he supposed to get stronger if Akashi never let him face a good opponent?

They stopped by a row of stalls while Hayama and Nebuya bought juice. Kagami gazed around the place, at the high school players scattered across the stadium grounds, all wearing jerseys and tracksuits from different schools, in dozens of colours. 

His attention was caught by a face and figure so familiar to his mind he could have picked it out of any crowd in the dead middle of the night.

“Tatsuya!” he called out, before he could think of stopping himself. 

Himuro Tatsuya, who had been walking towards the entry to the stadium, halted and then turned around. When he saw Kagami, his face lit up in a smile that made Kagami feel like--

– made him feel like everything all at once.

Movement at the edge of Kagami's vision. He turned to see Akashi frowning at him; but without speaking, Akashi merely turned away again to look at Tatsuya, who was walking towards them. Tatsuya was accompanied by his team, a group of players in black-and-white uniforms, who eyed the Rakuzan team curiously.

When the two groups were within a couple of metres, Kagami opened his mouth to greet Tatsuya again. But he was forestalled by Akashi stepping forward in front of him.

Akashi said: “It's been a long time, Tetsuya.” 

_Kuroko Tetsuya_. The name that Akashi had mentioned on the rooftop a few months ago. 

Kagami almost wasn't surprised when one of the players from the other team appeared out of nowhere – exactly the same way Mayuzumi often did, even more so now that he was doing training with Akashi and had made it to the first-string - and said: “It's good to meet you, Akashi-kun.”

“I will look forward to seeing Seirin play against Rakuzan in the second round,” said Akashi. He turned his attention to Tatsuya. “My name is Akashi Seijuurou. I'm Taiga’s captain. I apologise for interrupting your reunion, since I had one of my own to attend to.” 

“I’m Himuro Tatsuya of Seirin. I suppose you could say that Taiga and I are brothers.”

Akashi smiled at Tatsuya; Tatsuya smiled back. Somewhere in the world, a volcano was freezing over. 

Nebuya said. “Oi Kiyoshi, I hope you've been working on those muscles! I'm not going to lose to you this time round.”

Far too many reunions seemed to be going on. Confused, Kagami decided to just focus on Tatsuya instead. 

Tatsuya, who was still wearing the ring looped on a chain around his neck, who appeared calm and serious and self-possessed as ever. Even though Kagami knew that wasn't true at all, that Tatsuya had a temper, that he lost his cool at times, that he loved basketball more than anyone else.

That he--

Tatsuya said, in English: “How's it going?”

Kagami shrugged. “Not bad,” he answered, also in English. “How're you finding Tokyo?”

“I'm enjoying it,” Tatsuya said. “Seirin are a good team. You're with Rakuzan, huh? The defending champions.” 

They were interrupted, at that point, by a couple of Tatsuya's teammates wanting to introduce themselves to Kagami: a tall cheery-looking boy named Kiyoshi, whom Kagami recognised from basketball magazines, and of course Kuroko Tetsuya, who was shorter and quieter than Mayuzumi but shared that same air of smelling like – of feeling like – nothing at all.

Out of politeness, he and Tatsuya switched back to Japanese.

“The two of you knew each other back in the US?” Kiyoshi inquired courteously.

“Yeah,” said Kagami. He looked down at this feet and suddenly felt Akashi's eyes on him, watching. Akashi's gaze seemed to burn into Kagami, making his cheeks flush. 

More questions followed, mostly from Tatsuya's teammates but also from Hayama and Mibuchi, and before long Kagami and Tatsuya had between the two of them told the story of how they met, the rings, the promise, the way their last match had ended with Tatsuya striking Kagami in the face--

Kagami was surprised at his own calm. Tatsuya too was calm, or at least managed a good show of it, which was usual for Tatsuya. 

Finally, the tale was over. 

“I'm looking forward to our promised match,” Tatsuya said, his eyes hard and determined. “I understand our teams are playing tomorrow. It'll be a good chance to fulfill our agreement.”

He'd had almost two years to prepare for this. He'd had no time at all. He was not ready. He was never going to be ready.

A joyful bark sounded in the air, interrupting his train of thought. 

Tatsuya was being attacked by a dog. Or rather, Akashi's friend Kuroko Tetsuya was attacking Tatsuya by holding a dog to his face. It was licking Tatsuya's cheek.

Why did Seirin have a _dog_ anyway. Kagami tried to move as far away as possible from the... terrifying creature. 

“You have a dog phobia,” noted Akashi.

Kagami was more than happy to admit to it. “Could we not talk about this while that.... beast is there?” The dog gave a sharp, short happy yap at Tatsuya, who laughed. 

Kagami shuddered and tried to sidle behind Akashi. Akashi took one purposeful slow step out of the way, so that there was nothing but cold empty space between Kagami and the toothy, barking, grey-and-white monster. 

Kuroko said something to Tatsuya, who promptly looked abashed. Kagami couldn't hear their conversation; he'd put too much distance between him and the dog. 

But he heard it loud and clear when Akashi said: “I look forward to seeing your basketball tomorrow, Tetsuya.” 

Tomorrow. Kagami had looked at the tournament draw earlier today, but he hadn't known then about Tatsuya being with Seirin. 

Tomorrow.

#

“You call yourselves brothers,” said Akashi that evening, when they were getting ready for sleep, Kagami and Akashi having been assigned to the same hotel room for the duration of the Interhigh.

It was the first time Akashi had mentioned Himuro since they'd met Seirin this morning.

Kagami pulled on his T-shirt and a pair of shorts; Akashi was already wearing pyjamas and was sitting on his bed, reading a heavy paperback. Kagami couldn't recognise the kanji on the book spine. 

“That's how we think... thought of each other,” Kagami said. On the inside, he felt like knives. 

Akashi didn't pursue the subject, just nodded. “Good night, Taiga.” 

They turned out the lights and Kagami lay awake in the darkness for what seemed like forever at first. But sleep deprivation overtook him and all his thoughts, even the most frantic fearful ones; he slept soundly that night, and when he woke up at dawn, felt perfectly rested.

#

Rakuzan's chosen starting line-up against Seirin consisted of Hayama, Nebuya, Mibuchi, Kagami, and a third-year point guard from the regulars whom Kagami didn't know well. Mayuzumi was not on the bench. Shirogane had trialled Mayuzumi in a couple of games during regionals, but Akashi didn't consider him ready for proper competition yet.

As for Akashi himself, he'd barely seen an hour of official game time all year. Coach Shirogane tended to sub in stronger players whenever the need arose, and in a nutshell, so far Rakuzan had never needed Akashi to play. 

But Seirin was their strongest opponent so far. 

“They have the best outside scorers in this year's Interhigh,” judged Mayuzumi, and Mibuchi looked irritable but didn't disagree. On top of that, Kiyoshi Teppei was by all accounts one of the stronger Uncrowned players, and then there was Kuroko Tetsuya.

A player so valuable to the Generation of Miracles that Akashi wanted to bring his skills to Rakuzan, in the form of Mayuzumi.

Kagami wanted to question Akashi more about Kuroko Tetsuya, but he didn't even know where or how to begin asking.

And of course, Himuro Tatsuya.

Mibuchi was the one who brought it up in the changing rooms.

“Kagami-chan, you said you guys were evenly matched back in middle school,” he said, putting his jacket away in the locker. “I've seen footage of Himuro-kun's recent games and it looks like he's improved a lot since then.”

“He plays like one of _them_ ,” put in Hayama. Nebuya too nodded; the burly oversized center looked serious for once. 

“They're the only school so far this year that has given a loss to one of the Generation of Miracles,” Mibuchi said thoughtfully. “Seirin defeated Shuutoku High and Midorima Shintarou at preliminaries. One of the Three Kings of Tokyo, and the strongest shooting guard in Japanese high school basketball.” 

Tatsuya did _smell_ stronger, Kagami had sensed it the moment they'd met again. He'd trained or willed or otherwise reached a new level of ability that Kagami wasn't familiar with. If Tatsuya won today – Kagami unclasped the chain around his neck and gathered the ring in his palm, looking at it. If Tatsuya lost--

Akashi swung his locker door shut. It made a quiet but determined sound, and the net effect was to catch everyone's attention; as usual, Akashi made sure the entire team was looking at him before he spoke.

“Kiyoshi Teppei is still recovering from his injury; as for Tetsuya, he is a formidable opponent when backed into a corner, but he will not be playing at his most dangerous in today's match. For the record, Himuro Tatsuya is not of great concern. However, even if all of those factors were different, this does not change the fact that we would win.”

Akashi really did give the worst pep talks ever. And yet despite this, they always seemed to work; the regulars all looked a little calmer, a little more determined.

Except for Kagami. 

Akashi didn't glance at Kagami at all. Kagami wasn't sure whether to be relieved.

#

Tatsuya was furious, and Kagami didn't have any idea how to answer him.

As ever, Tatsuya was a whirl of grace on the court. Even more than before, in every pass, every shot, every fake, there was a perfection to his movements that transfixed the gaze. 

Rakuzan were winning, slightly, though it was the closest game they'd ever played before. Between Tatsuya and the Seirin captain, there had been a lot of three-pointers from their opponents, and no one on the Rakuzan team had figured out how to block that shot of Tatsuya's yet. 

Kagami was marking Tatsuya again. For the most part Tatsuya's concentration had been total, the intensity radiating from him almost unbearable. He hadn't made a mistake yet so far this game, and it was nearly the end of the second-quarter. 

Tatsuya moved upwards, threw – and Kagami leaped to block, and once again missed; the ball arced through the air and fell dead centre through the goal. 

“You still see me as a brother, don't you?” said Tatsuya, fury in his gaze, as if it was something to be despised. “We're enemies now. _Come at me like you want to kill me_.”

About a minute later Mibuchi made another jump shot, maintaining Rakuzan's lead, and then the buzzer sounded for half-time.

#

“We should think about subbing you in,” Mibuchi told Akashi.

Akashi remained calm. “There is no need.”

“Our advantage is not as sure as it could be.” 

“Perhaps from your viewpoint, Reo, but I have no concerns or reservations about our victory at this stage.”

“Do you intend to play at _all_ this match?” asked Hayama, and when Akashi did not respond, continued incredulously: “You don't, do you.”

“My playing is not needed,” responded Akashi. “Do you see one of the Generation of Miracles on the court?”

“Kuroko Tetsuya--” said Mibuchi.

“Will be subbed out in the next quarter. His misdirection is reaching its limit and no one knows that better than Tetsuya.”

“Himuro Tatsuya--”

“Is not a member of the Generation of Miracles.” 

“Well, yeah, but so far Kagami's been completely useless against that Mirage Shot of his,” said Hayama, and there was a rumble of agreement amongst the team.

Kagami was sitting near his own locker, towelling his face dry. His cheeks burned – in shame, in fury, in acknowledgement.

Akashi stood up from the bench where he had been sitting. “I have every expectation that Kagami's playing will improve in the second half of the game.” 

“Akashi--” said Hayama. 

Akashi interrupted him: “Are you all so lacking in confidence that you believe that you will fail against this opponent? Very well; if we do indeed lose, then my decision not to play will indeed be the reason. If so, I'll take responsibility; I'll quit the club immediately. In fact, as a sign of atonement, I will tear out both of my eyes and offer them to the team.”

Silence unfurled in the locker room; every single team member's gaze was drawn to Akashi who stood in their midst, head held high and cold and serious. 

Hayama gave off a weak laugh. “That's not a funny joke, Akashi--”

“Have you ever heard me joke?”

They had not. Akashi never made jokes. He never broke his promises. 

“There is no need to go to such extremes, Sei-chan.” Mibuchi said mildly. 

“I have every confidence in this team, Reo,” said Akashi, giving him a surprisingly sweet smile. His gaze swept the room and settled on each of the players in turn, before coming to a final rest on Kagami. Akashi was still smiling. “I have confidence in all of you. We will not lose.” 

Kagami had the sense of teetering on a precipice above jagged rocks – everything was confusing, everything uncertain. Tatsuya made no sense. Akashi's moods made no sense. 

After that little speech Akashi left the locker room for the remaining few minutes of half-time. Propelled along by some instinctive impulse, Kagami followed after him.

#

Akashi chose to step outside, at first giving no acknowledgement of Kagami's presence. The sun was high in the sky, making Kagami squint. The wind was cool against his drying skin.

Akashi said, without looking at him: “What do you want, Taiga?”

“About Tatsuya--”

“I have nothing to say to you about Himuro Tatsuya.”

It was true; Kagami knew everything that Akashi had to say about this. _Victory is everything. I'll kill anyone who opposes me, even my own parents._

In the end, Himuro wanted him to play his best, to go all-out. It was the same thing that Akashi wanted. That their team wanted.

It was what Kagami wanted, even when all the other things he wanted were tangling him up inside, making it hard to think.

But then Kagami wasn't any good at thinking. He'd been thinking about him and Tatsuya, Tatsuya and him, for months and years now, and it hadn't gotten him anywhere. 

He stared down at Akashi, who finally looked up to meet his eyes. The wind blew fine strands across the smaller boy's forehead, but couldn't disguise his cool diamond-hard gaze. 

“I'll defeat you,” Kagami said. “I won't stop until I defeat you. That's a promise.” 

Akashi said: “Then go and win.”

#

So he wrapped up his ring carefully and tucked it into a side-pocket of his sports bag and walked out onto the court to face Tatsuya, who wasn't his brother anymore.

The first time he leaped up and blocked Himuro's shot it seemed to happen in frozen time: the ball flicked out-of-bounds. Himuro landed back on his feet, then Kagami did. A hush fell amongst the nearby spectators. 

Himuro was breathing hard and his eyes were blazing and he was already moving smoothly for the next play, the next shot. And Kagami's blood sang as he followed him. 

By the time the final numbers lit up on the scoreboard, sealing Rakuzan's win, Kagami's focus had narrowed to the ball, the court, the players, the flow of the game; the sound of the buzzer cut through his consciousness and left him wide-eyed and quietly exhausted, processing everything. He'd won. They'd won.

They shook hands with Seirin and Kagami caught Himuro's eyes for a moment, saw them tear-bright and beautiful, and couldn't say a word. 

But even Himuro's expression didn't compare with when Kagami looked over and saw Kuroko Tetsuya sitting on the bench, pale and determined and devastated. But he wasn't crying. 

The Uncrowned were paying attention to Kuroko too. “Isn't he your friend, Akashi?” inquired Nebuya of the Rakuzan captain, who had spent his time sitting and watching the game with a serene lack of surprise. 

“The winner has nothing to say to the loser,” replied Akashi; and Kagami, for once, completely agreed with Akashi.

#

He didn't sleep that night, which clearly didn't escape Akashi, who poked him awake with the blunt end of a hairbrush at the crack of dawn.

“You'll be late for practice if you don't get up,” said Akashi, sounding unusually gentle. Kagami wandered over to the bathroom, stared at the circles around his eyes in the mirror as he cleaned his teeth, and wondered how bad things had to get before Akashi Seijuurou started being _nice_ to you. 

Apparently losing your brother-by-oath counted as bad enough.

They attended morning practice and then came back to the hotel for brunch, which was when Akashi said to him, “Let's go watch the quarter-final.” 

It was the one day Rakuzan did not have a match to play; Kagami immediately knew which quarter-final Akashi meant. “Kaijou versus Touou?” 

Akashi nodded. 

They went by themselves: without the Uncrowned, without Mayuzumi or any of the other regulars who had come to the Interhigh. The stands were packed by the time they arrived, but sharp-eyed as ever, Akashi quickly spotted two empty seats with a clear view of the court. Kagami recognised the two members of the Generation of Miracles as soon as they entered the court: Aomine Daiki, wearing the black uniform of Touou Gakuen, and the strikingly attractive Kise Ryouta. 

From the moment of tip-off the pace of the game moved quickly. Touou had the fastest offence Kagami had seen in the tournament so far; Kaijou, however, was keeping up. From Aomine's first steal to Kise's quick succession of copycat moves, the score climbed steadily on both sides.

Aomine was the strongest player Kagami had ever seen.

(Kagami had only thought those words once before in his life, three months ago, when he first saw Akashi play in the minigames.)

And yet, Kise Ryouta didn't seem inferior to Aomine. Not at the beginning, when they marked each other. Not even in the middle when he was struggling.

Certainly not at the end, when the Kaijou player gradually but surely started to adopt Aomine's playstyle. Formless and unpredictable. Like anything could happen. Like the score could go anywhere. 

“Who do you think is going to win?” asked Kagami.

Akashi opened his mouth, as if about to speak, but then was interrupted by a roar of cheering among the crowd as on the court, Aomine moved towards Kise and then stole the ball so swiftly that Kagami barely caught the moment happening. He drove forward, dribbled, and, when another Kaijou player came forward to block him, arched his back, reached out, flicked his wrist and sent the basketball spinning surely towards its goal. 

The buzz of excitement remained in the crowd, and didn't fade away; Akashi for his part remained an intent spectator. In the end he didn't answer Kagami's question – it was only until later, when Aomine sent the final furious dunk through the hoop, against Kise's futile attempt to block, that Kagami realised: Maybe Akashi hadn't known who would win.

#

After they'd finished watching the match, Kagami’s hands moved restlessly, longing for a basketball. Akashi glanced at him with a knowing expression in his eyes. Kagami didn't care that Akashi saw right through him.

“There's no official practice this afternoon right?” Kagami asked, as the rest of the spectators began to get up from their seats and leave the stadium. “Let's hit up the court for a couple of hours. Um. You don't have to come if you don't want to,” he added, acutely aware that Akashi usually turned down impromptu invitations like this. 

To his surprise, Akashi nodded and said, “I don't have other plans for the evening.” 

They got up and made their way through the moving throng of people, out one of the side-doors and then into a long hallway. Akashi took the lead; Kagami followed after him. They were almost at the main exit when Akashi halted.

Akashi said: “Atsushi.”

The boy who paused in front of them was nearly a head taller than Kagami, with longish hair and a bored expression. He held a Pocky stick suspended between his lips like a cigarette, which he bit into half, chewed, and then swallowed, before offering his own greeting: “Akachin.” 

Kagami recognised him, of course. Murasakibara Atsushi of Yousen. 

“How was your match?” asked Akashi.

Murasakibara shrugged, still crunching the remains of his Pocky stick. “Boring. Kise-chin lost, right?”

“Daiki won. But I don't think he will be playing in the final. Satsuki will not have missed the condition of his elbow."

“He's injured, huh.” Murasakibara pulled another stick of strawberry-coated Pocky out from a packet he was carrying. “But before that, isn't my team playing against yours in the semifinal? I don't really feel like playing against you, Akachin.”

“You won't have to.”

“That's not very funny,” said Murasakibara. Around them, there was a circle of space where the crowd had parted to give them room; Kagami spotted several curious onlookers who had no doubt recognised two of the Generation of Miracles. 

“Nor should it be,” said Akashi, “it's not a joke.”

Tired of being left out of the conversation, especially after the match he'd just watched, Kagami said, taking a step forward, “You're Murasakibara, right? I'm Kagami Taiga.”

Murasakibara frowned at him. “Who are you?” He leaned in to peer at Kagami's face. “Why are your eyebrows so weird?” Before Kagami could respond to that, Murasakibara had reached up and plucked several hairs out of Kagami's left eyebrow. 

Pain stung above Kagami's eyes. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

“Whoops, sorry,” said Murasakibara, sounding unrepentant. “Your eyebrows were really long, that was all--”

“Are you crazy?”

“Don't be such a pain. I said, sorry, didn't I?”

“Atsushi.” Akashi's voice cut their conversation short; both of them turned to look at him. “You'll be playing against Taiga in the semifinals.”

Murasakibara's body went tense; he gave Kagami a dark irritated look and then scowled at Akashi. “As I said, Akachin, that's not funny.”

“And as I said,” Akashi remained calm, “it's not a joke.” 

“Even if it's for Akachin, I won't lose a match I'm playing in.”

“When have I ever told you to lose?” The two members of the Generation of Miracles looked at each other, the atmosphere around them suddenly seeming cold. Then Murasakibara took a step back; the moment passed. 

“Okay then,” he said. “I'll see you at the semifinals, Akachin.” He did not bother to say goodbye to Kagami before turning and walking off, his height making him easily visible in the crowd even after he was already a good distance away.

“Let's go,” said Akashi, and he and Kagami made their own way outside before walking the several blocks needed to the practice gym they were using. 

They were already dressed for exercise, and there was a basketball rack filled with balls at the side of the gym. Akashi was a stickler about warming up properly so they jogged a couple of laps, and then stretched, before Kagami picked up a ball and started dribbling it casually, lightly, focusing on his left hand as he'd been doing all month. 

“Are you not playing in the semifinals?” he asked Akashi, as the other boy walked onto the court, watching as Kagami worked on crossover dribbles.

Akashi moved forward, and as usual, almost before Kagami had even noticed it, he'd stolen possession of the ball. Akashi dribbled low a few times, then passed the ball back to Kagami, who caught in and stood there; for the next several seconds there was stillness as they watched each other. 

Akashi said: “That's up to you.” When Kagami frowned confusedly at him, he continued, “Three Uncrowned Generals aren't enough against Atsushi. But will you be, Kagami Taiga?” 

“You'll let me face him?” Kagami felt exultant. 

Akashi _moved_ , and then Kagami was on the floor, again. Still though, even having Ankle Break used on him couldn't make a dent in Kagami's exuberance. 

He was going to fight the Generation of Miracles. 

He was a step closer to Akashi.

#

Akashi played in the Rakuzan's quarterfinal match together with Nebuya, while Mibuchi, Hayama and Kagami sat out; it was their most overwhelming victory of the Interhigh so far, the final score sitting at 112-15.

The team went out to Yoshinoya afterwards, Mibuchi and Akashi making disapproving faces as Kagami and Nebuya consumed bowl after bowl of gyuudon. 

“You'll have nightmares from indigestion tonight,” said Akashi detachedly.

“Only if I sleep at all,” said Kagami – but to his surprise, he fell asleep early that night; he was out like a light even before Akashi had finished reading or switched the bedside lamps off.

He woke up the next morning and found Akashi already dressed and sitting at the small round table in their hotel room, a portable shougi board in front of him. Wooden pieces lay arranged on the board in what looked like a game in progress, but Akashi wasn't moving them, just sitting there and staring silently. 

“Are you winning?” asked Kagami, coming over to stand behind Akashi, who tilted his head back to look up at Kagami. 

“It's not over yet,” he said. 

He left the board untouched when they went downstairs for practice, the game still unfinished. 

The Uncrowned this morning were filled with a tension they hadn't displayed even for the match against Seirin. 

“You're playing this time, right, Sei-chan?” Mibuchi asked as they walked to the stadium together. 

“If I need to,” answered Akashi. He did not glance at Kagami.

The summer day was warm, but the spotlights on the court seemed even hotter – and that was before they'd even started playing. They shook hands with the Yousen players – the tallest team of the Interhigh, even discounting Murasakibara, who looked down with a grimace and refused to take Kagami's outstretched hand.

“I'm only playing because Akachin said so,” he said. “I hate guys like you the most, you know? Players who love basketball and get annoyingly fired up.” 

He really was like a massive overgrown kid. Kagami snorted. “Didn't think you'd be scared of a battle.”

That got through; Murasakibara looked offended at once. “What? I'm not scared.”

“You so are afraid.”

“I'm not--”

“Kagami-chan, _shut up_ ,” hissed Mibuchi, just as the tall hulking captain of Yousen thwacked Murasakibara on the head. “The game's about to start.” 

Murasakibara beat Nebuya at tip-off; from the moment he leaped upwards, his reach ridiculously high, there was a sense that this was like no other match Rakuzan had played this year. 

The Generation of Miracles. 

Finally, Kagami was playing against them. 

It was every bit as difficult as he'd hoped.

Rakuzan didn't score from the inside for the entirety of the first quarter. Their score remained ahead, thanks to Mibuchi's three-pointers; and Yousen for their part didn't make many shots either. 

They were still winning. Just that – Murasakibara made Kagami angry. 

“Does he just stay in the two-point area all the time?” he asked Akashi during the break between quarters. Akashi had been watching from the bench with his usual calm inscrutable face.

Akashi held out Kagami's towel and drink bottle. “It's a valid winning strategy, if a very boring one.”

Kagami grabbed his water bottle and took a swig. “Is this how he played at Teikou?”

“Not always. Whenever Atsushi gets angry, his focus switches to offense. In fact, he's more effective at scoring than he is at defending.”

“How do we get him to lose his temper, then?”

“What, so we can have two oversized disgruntled players with banal minds jumping their way across this court like monkeys?” Akashi narrowed his eyes at Kagami. “You appear to be enjoying yourself.”

Kagami shrugged. “I guess.” 

The expression on Akashi's face pretty much read _I want to Ankle Break you except that you're sitting on the bench and it would be too much effort to push you off it._

“Have you got any advice?” Kagami asked.

Rather than producing the usual sarcastic response about how Kagami didn't have the brain capacity for understanding advice Akashi had to give anyway, the Rakuzan captain merely said: “You don't need me to tell you how to defeat Atsushi, Kagami Taiga.”

Then they were out of time and Shirogane gathered the team together for a final strategy rundown before they went out on the court again.

Kagami scored his first two points thirty seconds into the second quarter, after Murasakibara was caught out by a seamless fake from Mibuchi. 

The next shot he made, Murasakibara was already there and waiting – but Kagami leaped higher, and Nebuya was there too, prepared for a rebound; Murasakibara was a millisecond too slow, and the dunk went through.

For a few minutes after that, things seemed fine. The gaps between the scores widened; Kagami managed only a couple of baskets after that, but he kept the pressure on Murasakibara, leaving Mibuchi enough room to score three-pointer after three pointer. 

The shift in Murasakibara came upon them at 39-25. 

He crossed the court in a flash, easily moving past Mibuchi and Hayama's attempts to defend, and slammed the ball through the hoop against a futile block from Nebuya.

He'd scored another six points before Rakuzan managed to regroup. 

The pace of the game, already brutal, seemed to speed up, the switches between offense and defense more frequent. 

The first half ended with Murasakibara dunking again, like a whirlwind, like an oncoming storm; Kagami jumped to defend, but Murasakibara pushed the ball past him and through the hoop as if Kagami were no heavier than a feather-filled pillow.

Kagami dropped back to his feet, to the floor, and the buzzer sounded for halftime with him still staring up at Murasakibara, while around them the spectators broke their lengthy awed silence with an outburst of cheers.

#

He needed fresh air.

“I'll come with you,” said Akashi, when Kagami asked to go outside. They went out to the balcony above the main entrance to the sports centre. Above, the sky was blue and too bright. 

Akashi came to a stop in front of the guard rail, staring out at the streets beyond the stadium grounds. Sunlight gleamed in his hair. Kagami stood beside him. They were silent for a while, listening to the wind, the sound of road traffic, the chatter of other Interhigh players milling around the stadium complex. 

Akashi said: “I'll play starting from the third quarter.”

Startled, Kagami said: “What, no. I can take him.” 

“The possibility exists that you could defeat him, yes.” Akashi turned to look up at Kagami with his cold beautiful eyes. “The coach and I are not prepared to make our decisions on mere possibilities.” 

Frustration flared through him – so close, he was so close, he could taste it. “It's not even that you think I can't beat Murasakibara. You just think I might not be able to.” 

“Yes,” said Akashi. 

“What about waiting till the fourth quarter? We could hold Yousen until then.”

“There's no point.” 

“Why?” Kagami demanded – a question he rarely asked Akashi, who always had his reasons, even if they were often so complicated they gave everyone a headache once he explained them. But he'd waited and waited, and Akashi had given him the _chance_ , and now –

“Because I don't need you to win Rakuzan's battles, Kagami Taiga.” Akashi's voice was low, and with that he turned away from the conversation and went back inside.

#

The moment Akashi walked onto the court, everything changed.

For starters, Murasakibara seemed to give up. He didn't even _try_ to cross the center line while Akashi was running defense, just retreated to the key, and while he still blocked every single one of Nebuya and Hayama's shots, Mibuchi and Kagami both managed to score multiple times on him in the second half. 

Between the third and final quarters Murasakibara walked off and kicked a folding chair over, then got into an argument with the female coach who was hitting him with a shinai.

Kagami sat next to Akashi on the Rakuzan bench and watched. “He seems upset.” 

“Atsushi will be fine.”

“Is this the sort of game you wanted to play against your friend?”

“As opposed to?” Akashi raised a brow. “A game of enjoyable basketball? A game where I threaten to maim myself in order to see you play at full strength? A game where you find yourself moved by the will to fight for your team mates?”

“I don't understand what you're saying,” said Kagami, because damn it, Akashi made Himuro look _easy_ by comparison. “I want to play basketball. I want—” _you to enjoy basketball_ , he thought, but he didn't say it out loud. 

They won 109-71 against Yousen.

The next day, because Aomine Daiki wasn't playing, they won easily against Touou too.

#

Himuro's message arrived shortly after the Interhigh closing ceremonies. _There's a Maji Burger not far from here. Wanna meet up for dinner?_

Unable to avoid the rush of hope that went through him, Kagami emailed back. Akashi was in their hotel room playing shougi and paused consideringly as he looked across at Kagami's phone.

“Himuro Tatsuya?” he asked, his tone implying that he already knew the answer.

“I'm going to meet him in twenty minutes,” said Kagami in a rush, feeling lighter than air. “I'll be back before dark.” 

“Do whatever you like,” Akashi said coolly. 

Kagami ran all the way to the fast food place. He got there early, but Himuro was already there, sitting at a booth with a soft drink and a supersized serving of fries. Kagami ordered his tray of burgers and fries and then piled himself into the seat opposite Himuro.

Without being able to stop himself, his eyes were drawn to Himuro's neck; Himuro was wearing the ring, same as Kagami. Their rings. Relief filled Kagami; followed by uncertainty. 

“Kagami.”

“Himuro.”

“Congrats on winning the Interhigh,” Himuro said softly. 

Kagami shifted in his chair. “Thanks,” he answered, although he still didn't really know what to think about the Interhigh. Murasakibara Atsushi and the Generation of Miracles, and whatever was going on in Akashi's head that nobody understood, least of all Kagami. “Is Seirin still in town, then?”

“Our team has returned to Tokyo,” came a voice _that sounded like a ghost out of nowhere right next to Kagami_ and made him nearly choke on his half-chewed bit of burger bun. By the time he finished coughing, his eyes were watering, his cheeks red.

Kuroko Tetsuya sat next to him, clutching a milkshake in one hand as he continued calmly, “It's good to meet you again, Kagami-kun. As I said, our team has returned to Tokyo, but Himuro-sempai and I decided to stay for a few days to do some sightseeing.”

Seriously, was this what life was going to be like at Rakuzan once Mayuzumi-sempai got _even more invisible_?

Amusement glinted in Himuro's eyes. He and Alex had always found it _so_ entertaining whenever Kagami was scared to death. 

Kagami gave up and changed the subject. “What's it like at Seirin?” he asked Himuro, nodding at Kuroko as well. 

Himuro smiled, exchanging glances with Kuroko. “It's good. Seirin is a good team.”

“You guys were pretty awesome,” Kagami agreed.

“We don't plan on losing the next time we face Rakuzan,” said Himuro, more seriously. There was a set determination in his face, mirrored in Kuroko Tetsuya's eyes. 

It was hard to imagine Rakuzan ever losing, as long as Akashi was there, but the look in Himuro's eyes made Kagami relax a little. He'd worried – and he'd feared--

He glanced curiously at Kuroko Tetsuya. Once they'd played against Seirin it had made sense what Akashi was trying to teach Mayuzumi – those passes, how the ball travelled unpredictably and suddenly, so that it was never quite where one expected it to be. But in his own way Kuroko Tetsuya smelled completely different from Mayuzumi-sempai, and Kagami wasn't sure what the difference was.

“You used to play at Teikou with Akashi,” said Kagami. 

He watched an unreadable emotion pass across Kuroko's features. “I did.” 

“What happened there?” Kagami had never been one to pry, but it was getting more and more obvious that _something_ had gone down with the Generation of Miracles. Something they never talked about. 

“Shouldn't you be asking that of Akashi-kun? He's your captain now,” countered Kuroko.

Kagami shrugged. “He used to be your captain too, right?”

“I do know what he's like,” Kuroko acknowledged. “What do you want to know about Teikou?”

That was hard to answer. There were a thousand things Kagami wanted to know. But he chose one: “Why doesn't Akashi enjoy basketball anymore?”

For a fleeting moment, Kuroko looked stricken. Then he gathered himself and said: “I can't tell you everything about Teikou, but I can tell you a little bit.”

Kagami nodded. “Okay then.”

"They were the strongest players in middle school. No one else even came close.”

Kagami knew _that_ much at least. “And?”

“But they didn't start out that way. They all started out as unusually talented players at first, but no more than that, until halfway through middle school, when their genius began to bloom. That was when--,” Kuroko paused. “They stopped trusting me, and they stopped trusting each other. Each of them only began to believe in themselves, and in their own abilities."

Kuroko took a sip of his milkshake and then finished, “I'm sorry, but that is probably all I can tell you today. You should ask Akashi-kun if you want to know the rest.”

Himuro-kun stepped in gracefully, stealing one of Kagami's fries, slathering it in ketchup, changing the subject to local tourist attractions and the LA Lakers and Alex's terrifying Instagram account. Kuroko stayed pretty quiet after that but offered a deadpan joke at times; at one point, he suggested introducing Kagami to Nigou properly which _really wasn't very funny at all_ but at least Himuro was amused.

Then dusk was falling and through the glass walls of the fast food restaurant they could see strips of bright sunset colour across the horizon. Himuro and Kuroko had to make it back to the inn where they were staying, too, so they made their farewells. 

“Keep in touch, Taiga,” said Himuro.

Warmth unfurled inside Kagami. “I will,” he promised. He shook hands with Kuroko. “I”ll see you around.”

Kuroko contemplated Kagami for a second, before saying, “There's perhaps one thing that I can tell you about Akashi-kun, although it may not make sense at first." 

“What is that?” asked Kagami.

“You should know that there are two Akashi Seijuurous.” 

The perplexing statement came at Kagami and left him confused. “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don't know,” said Kuroko. “I'm still trying to find out.”

#

Akashi was still at the shougi board when Kagami arrived back at the hotel. He looked up at the sound of the door clicking shut behind Kagami.

"You met Tetsuya," he said, tossing the shougi piece he'd been holding up into the air and then catching it. 

"How did you know?"

"I surmised. But now I know." 

Kagami sat down opposite Akashi and looked at the unfinished game on the board. "Who's winning?"

"Myself."

"Stupid question, fine." He thought of what Kuroko had said earlier about there being two Akashis and stared across at the shorter boy. Calm face, focused eyes, a cold and distant air. It was Akashi as Kagami had always known him. It was hard to imagine him otherwise. 

"I have something for you." Akashi went over to the bedside table and picked up a palm-sized red notebook, which he gave to Kagami. "It's your training and studying schedule for summer vacation."

Kagami flipped it open and saw lines and lines and lines of Akashi's neat black handwriting. "Uh, you do know that I'm going back to LA for the holidays." He was flying out tomorrow. He'd already made plans to see Alex. Train with her for a bit, like Tatsuya had just before he went to Seirin. Grow stronger. 

"I wasn't aware that being in the United States physically prevented you from studying. I did leave you some leisure time." Judging by the suggested timetable, Akashi's idea of 'leisure time' meant being able to eat three meals a day and sleep eight and a half hours a night. Barely. "Nationals are soon after the summer vacation, and the Winter Cup takes place in December. You can't afford to let your grades slip."

"Do you still trust me to play, then?"

"Ah. I see. You _have_ been talking to Tetsuya." 

"I don't want you to pull me out again, like you did with Murasakibara." 

"The situation was not ideal. In many ways it's unfortunate. I can tell you that light and light only ends one way." Akashi was still standing; he gazed down at Kagami. "We should have been enemies, not teammates." 

Kagami shrugged. "We're teammates." 

"Displeased as I am with the reality, yes."

"You don't have to be such an asshole about it," Kagami said. "It's obvious that basketball's a team sport."

"It is." For a moment Akashi seemed almost, not quite, but very nearly, sad. But it was only a moment, and it passed. "You'll face the Generation of Miracles, Taiga. You don't need me to trust you or to believe in you. Regardless of all other factors, your road leads to ours. That I can say with certainty."

His words sounded to Kagami like a promise. But they also sounded like a curse.

#

Akashi took the Shinkansen out to Tokyo early the next morning. Kagami packed up, checked out, and caught a taxi out to the airport. Alex had already emailed him a list of plans for his first three days in LA. Sticking to Akashi's timetable wasn't exactly going to be easy.

He'd work it out. 

He'd go back, and then he'd come back here, to Rakuzan. To their next training camp, their next game, to the Nationals, to the Winter Cup. 

To victory. 

 

 **The end of this story. The beginning of a new one**.

 

**Notes:**

1) Manga purists will note that Seirin is not supposed to have adopted Nigou yet, strictly going by manga timeline. In the interests of giving Kagami the opportunity to be terrorised at the Interhigh, this fic is assuming anime timeline as far as canon Nigou events are concerned.

2) My stalwart beta jcminwell has pointed out that in the canon universe the equivalent to Yoshinoya is in fact named Yoshidaya. ["Yoshidaya": http://www.batoto.net/read/_/116861/kuroko-no-basket_ch174_by_akashi-scans/11]. I have chosen to go with Yoshinoya here as being the more recognisable brand name.

3) For clarification, there are three major tournaments in Japanese high school basketball: the Interhigh, the Nationals, and the Winter Cup. Since Seirin did not get invited to the Nationals, that tournament does not feature in the Kuroko no Basuke manga; Rakuzan, however, would in all probability have been invited.

**Author's Note:**

> To my betas: [troisroyaumes](http://triabasileia.tumblr.com), [jcminwell](http://jcminwell.tumblr.com), [lacewood](http://4thquartersessions.tumblr.com). Thank you so much for your patience and time. Any mistakes remaining are entirely mine.
> 
> To my fellow Divergence Week authors: [half-sleeping](http://half-sleeping.tumblr.com), [tormalyne](http://tormalyne.tumblr.com), [takaomine](http://takaomine.tumblr.com) and [aiwritingfic](http://aiwritingfic.tumblr.com). Thanks for your creativity and mutual goodwill and effort and love for Kuroko no Basuke! It's been a privilege to write with the rest of you.


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